


That rushes skin and widens in blooded veins

by FereldenTurnip



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub Undertones, Face Slapping, Feral Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Hair-pulling, Impact Play, M/M, Mirror Sex, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Negotiated Kink, Rough Sex, Spanking, Subspace, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26670730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FereldenTurnip/pseuds/FereldenTurnip
Summary: And right at this very moment, Nicky is slipping. His eyes are begging Joe to help him even as they cloud over. Heart bleeding, Joe hushes him and asks him to hold on just a little bit longer. He can feel how Nicky’s arm has tensed so tight the tendon might snap. Massaging it only dulls the symptom, doesn’t cure the root cause. There is a remedy for this ache that Joe can only prescribe in the privacy of their room.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 15
Kudos: 284





	That rushes skin and widens in blooded veins

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ THE TAGS!!** I _cannot_ stress it enough that you read the tags first before reading this fic. If the themes are not to your liking, please click the back button. 
> 
> That being said, this is a fic wherein Nicky is allowed the privacy/safety to be wild and unfettered, knowing Joe will physically force him into submission. It's a consensual and pre-negotiated (off-screen) way of relieving stress. Nicky is in no way abused or horribly injured in the process. Afterwards, Joe does his due-diligence to take care of him.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta: [Emdee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohemdee)!! Thank you for nitpicking this filth!

  
  
  


The mission didn’t go wrong, but it didn’t go exactly according to plan _either_.

  
  


It was a simple extraction that took a slight turn for the worst towards the end. They all escaped without compromising themselves and even made it out with the acquired package. 

  
  


Except this had been the third job since losing Booker and none had gone off entirely without a hitch. 

  
  


All four of them piled into a nondescript SUV and are nearly half-way to a designated safe house. Joe is curled up in the back with his legs propped in Nicky’s lap while his body cracks back into place after a head-on collision with a goon’s speeding car nearly liquified him. It was either him or a newly-minted-mortal Andy. The decision was pretty straightforward, one Joe is satisfied to repeat if necessary. 

  
  


Nicky himself is soaked to the bone from when he was shot off a bridge and into the river below. Still, he doesn’t regret giving up his sniper position in order to buy Nile time with the getaway vehicle. Andy is the one who spotted him floating facedown further downstream; the current proved too strong and pulled him under several times. 

  
  


Joe is paying close attention to his team’s disposition. From his position tucked sideways on the seat, he can clearly see Nile is disappointed in herself. Hunched over the steering wheel, Nile’s eyebrows are pinched and her eyes are vaguely wet. She obviously has it in her head that this bout of bad luck is her fault. As if it’s her responsibility to fill the void Booker left. Except it’s really not. Honestly, it's a mistake on their part for jumping straight into the thick of things without taking her new position into full consideration. Andy’s new scar was still fresh and pink when they accepted a job from Copley. 

  
  


Joe frowns. Their youngest addition to the Guard is extremely skilled, deeply intuitive, and a true joy to have in their long lives. He feels a twinge of guilt for letting a seed of doubt sprout in the first place. He promises to do better by her, to help her find her own niche within their family. 

  
  


As his kneecaps pop and relocate themselves, he turns his focus towards the boss lady. Andy is consigned to the front passenger seat to lick her wounds (she can't stand how her new-found weakness makes her bruise like a peach). She is viciously punching buttons on the dashboard, torturing the radio into coughing up something decent to listen to. Joe knows she is taking her own shortcomings out on the tech. How do you get used to salves and stitches when you’ve spent eons shrugging an injury off in a blink of an eye? 

  
  


Everyone is frustrated. 

  
  


None more so than Nicky. Joe immediately notices the tense set in his husband’s shoulders, the stilted way he shifts compared to his usual smooth grace. His back is ramrod-straight beneath soaking black tactical gear. For a moment Joe worries he is nursing an unseen wound, an internal hemorrhage taking its sweet time to heal, maybe?  _ Please,  _ **_please_ ** _ let him be healing! _

  
  


Just then his ankle is seized in a grip tight enough to grind the freshly mended bones together. Joe grimaces, but he still reaches out to Nicky as if he is the one hurting. He latches on to his sleeve--it’s wet with river scum and blood--and tries to tug him around from where he’s gazing out the window. Nicky jolts from scrutinizing the passing scenery and stares down his nose at Joe. 

  
  


_ Ah _ … he understands what  _ that  _ look means. 

  
  


It’s a rare occurrence for Nicky to be anything other than his reserved, stoic self. Obviously, something about this mission has tipped Nicky to a breaking point. He is losing an internal battle within himself against a rising tide of rage and helplessness, the same way a boat thrashes about in a hurricane. Soon, Nicky’ll come unmoored. 

  
  


This isn’t the first time, either. Ever so often, Nicky gets the itch to cut completely loose; usually when he has had enough of swallowing life’s misery, when it chafes at him and he can no longer will it away behind a veneer of cool composure. They’ve got a pre-negotiated method for safely guiding Nicky back to shore when he gets like this. When the pain becomes too much and only hurt will exorcise it gone. 

  
  


And right at this very moment, Nicky is  _ slipping _ . His eyes are begging Joe to  _ help him _ even as they cloud over. Heart bleeding, Joe hushes him--quietly, so the women won’t hear--and asks him to hold on just a little bit longer. He can feel how Nicky’s arm has tensed so tight the tendon might snap. Massaging it only dulls the symptom, doesn’t cure the root cause. There is a remedy for this ache that Joe can only prescribe in the privacy of their room. 

  
  
  
  


\----

  
  
  
  


The first slap is unexpected, just as Joe intended. He’s waited patiently until their bedroom door clicked shut before shifting into this role.

  
  


Nicky’s head whips to the side and momentarily rests against his shoulder. He’s not in shock, but relieved. There's a calm, dreamy sag to his frame. Joe gives him space while he leans against the door. He watches the tent quickly form in front of Nicky’s tight cargo pants. His own cock twitches in response.

  
  


His senses are quick to reload and before Joe realizes it, Nicky’s rearing back for more. His eyes are two green flames blazing from darkened sockets. He’s panting like he’s run a mile. He’s lost the ability to speak since entering the safe house. He will be unable to speak until this feral haze has evaporated from his body. Instead, Nicky juts his chin out with a defiant edge. His hard stare demands  _ more! _

  
  


_ As you wish, habibi _ , Joe thinks.

  
  


Joe aims the next one closer, on the other cheek. The flat of his hand catches on the corner of Nicky’s supple mouth. Joe’s eyes dilate at the red blossoming on his pale skin. It slowly fades, courtesy of their supernatural healing. He groans at the loss, digs his fingers into the meat of Nicky’s chin to will the redness back to the surface. Unlike in the car, he is not soft. Soft is the opposite of what Nicky wants. So he pries the hinge of Nicky’s jaw until his ruddy, grimacing mouth falls open. Nicky tries to buck him off, so Joe uses his upper body to pin Nicky to the door. He proceeds to lick at those puffy lips, coating them in spit before fucking his tongue deep into his warm, wet mouth. 

  
  


He tastes like river water. Nicky is snarling but he’s sucking eagerly at Joe’s invading tongue. His fingers claw at Joe’s back, nearly ripping the shirt clean from his shoulders. It’s already ruined from the crash earlier--Joe hears the threads popping. Abruptly, Nicky goes from pulling to pushing. It's a half-hearted show. If Nicky  _ truly  _ wanted Joe off him, he'd have dislocated his arm in three places by now. They have only three rules: break something to put an end to this, otherwise no bleeding and no humiliation. 

  
  


Joe pulls away and shakes his head in mild admonition. His hand is lightning fast, this time the slap draws out a chest-deep cry. Mentally, Joe is praying the others won’t fret, that Andy will keep Nile from rushing to their bedroom to investigate. This is  _ Nicky’s  _ time. He doesn’t want to be seen like this and Joe will fiercely protect his wishes. 

  
  


He’s back to gripping Nicky’s jaw. He tilts his head around to check in on him. Nicky’s eyes are shuttered with an unnamable darkness. Joe can’t help a momentary lapse in character to gently swipe his thumb against the mole on his cheek. He not-so-secretly enjoys witnessing Nicky’s walls crumble under his sturdy hand, in fanning the flames of his carnal chaos. There’s an admirable strength in Nicky’s hard-earned submission. In the present, Nicky wets his bottom lip and wrenches Joe forward by his belt. 

  
  


And so it continues. Another slap snaps Nicky's head back against the door with a dull thud. Joe savours the elicit whine that leaks through gritted teeth. By now both their cocks are straining against their zippers. He knocks Nicky’s legs apart and slides his thigh roughly along his crotch. The friction is intoxifying and Joe basks in the view. This creature, his Nicky, is wild and unabashed. He humps against him with his head thrown back and Adam's apple bobbing. 

  
  


“Gotta get these fucking clothes off you,” Joe whispers. The command is followed by a flurry of movement as both men tear off their gear and ruined outfits. Joe kicks the pile to the side so he can throw Nicky across the room and not worry about him tripping. 

  
  


Nicky stumbles into the ramshackle vanity on the opposite wall. Teeth bared, he turns and growls. He launches himself at Joe, ducking low and aiming to grapple for his midsection. It’s a maneuver well anticipated. Joe widens his stance and braces for the impact. Nicky isn’t as strong, but he’s faster and more agile. When he doesn’t budge, Nicky tries to sweep his leg out from under him. Joe buckles slightly, however the new angle gives him the freedom to pivot on his heel, latch under Nicky’s arms, and shove him back into the vanity again. 

  
  


This time, Joe dogs his steps and pins Nicky’s front against the wood. Beneath him Nicky claws and scrambles for purchase until his fingers curl around the back edge. The mirror shakes precariously at the motion and their gazes meet in the reflection. Nicky’s eyes bore into his--they’re dilated with pleasure, the green irises swallowed almost completely by the void of lust. He spreads Nicky's legs far apart, pushes against his spine, and lowers him into submitting his pert ass for Joe’s gaze. With one hand he fists Nicky’s hair and forces him to watch through the mirror as he lands a loud slap on the thick meat of his ass. The round cheek jiggles satisfyingly and quickly reddens. 

  
  


Joe bites his bottom lip to keep from moaning. His hand soothes over the worked flesh, occasionally grabbing a handful just to watch the indents his fingers make. Another lash is followed by three more in swift succession. The vanity trembles and squeaks. Nicky hisses and jolts with every hit, his toes scouring for traction against the floor. His eyes are lidded, his mouth agape and panting like a wanton whore. 

  
  


When he’s done spanking him, Joe pulls his cheeks apart to reveal his puckered entrance. This time he can’t smother the noise that pulls from deep within his stomach. Joe’s neglected cock bobs from where it’s nestled in the soft crease between Nicky’s thigh and ass. With his grip still restraining Nicky’s head, Joe drags his other thumb over the rim. He’s delighted by the flutter his touch provokes. He spits over the crack and watches it sluice over his hole. Nicky hiccups for breath. For an agonizing minute Joe teases him with the tip of his thumb, spreading saliva messily, pressing but never truly penetrating. His hole tries to suck the digit in at every pass. Nicky growls in frustration, tries to writhe back but the grip in his hair is too strong. 

  
  


Joe looks up into the mirror again and cocks his head in consideration. He’s fixated on the two Nickys gasping beneath him. Joe angles Nicky’s face closer to the mirror, swallows around the lump in his throat as he forces one high cheekbone into the cool glass. Nicky lashes out to sink his fingers into the wrist and arm restraining him--not to pull him off but to hold him there instead. Joe observes him wet his lips like he’s parched. He’s close enough that his tongue lolls out against the mirror and strokes along his mouth’s reflection. It’s as if he’s kissing himself. 

  
  


There’s pearl after pearl of precome leaking from Joe’s cock. It’s coating Nicky’s legs in sticky slick. He wraps a hand around the base of himself, pumping up and down the purpled shaft. He jerks himself to the visage of Nicky frenching himself a little longer before returning his attention to the task at hand. 

  
  


He taps his cock on Nicky’s ass cheeks, shivering at the sensation, before dragging the head along Nicky’s spasming hole. He smears his wetness back and forth over the rim and fantasizes about sinking inside right then and there. He wants to spear him open, impale him so far and deep that Nicky’ll feel him in his throat. Yet no matter how lost in play they get, Joe refuses to hurt Nicky this intimately, to do it bone-dry. He remembers there’s a tub of vaseline somewhere in the top drawer, too. 

  
  


He stops and straightens, tugging Nicky by the hair until they’re both standing. Joe hooks his chin over Nicky’s shoulder and enjoys the view reflected back at them. They make a rather handsome, depraved pair. Joe catches the sight of himself in the mirror. He almost doesn’t recognize the man wearing his own face. His brown eyes, typically soft and sweet are currently blown black with lust. Those famished dark eyes travel down his husband’s body as if he were a feast to break his fast. Nicky’s cock is prominently on display; heavy and engorged, his foreskin is pulled back to reveal the weeping red head. It bobs with a pulse of his heart beat, the tip glistening and begging for attention. Despite wanting to drop to his knees and  _ taste  _ him (and boy does his mouth salivate on a whim), Joe ignores it and fondles his heavy sack instead. His nails skid downwards and rake across the tops of his thighs. The four red trails welt and disappear. 

  
  


There’s a full-bodied flush painting Nicky’s skin.  _ Fuck is he beautiful! _ His nipples have hardened into twin peaks and they swell when Joe pinches them mercilessly. Nicky snarls and tries to seize Joe’s hair but he’s easily out-maneuvered. He abandons admiring Nicky’s body in favour of wrenching his swinging arms snug behind his back. 

  
  


Naturally, he struggles. After a well-aimed slap to his face, Nicky slumps limp against Joe’s chest. That dreamy, dopey look returns. Joe uses the moment to adjust his grip so he’s crossed both of Nicky’s arms over his chest in a parody of an embrace. He pins them there with one strong hand while he caresses Nicky’s neck with the other. The artery rabbits beneath his palm.

  
  


Joe doesn’t give him a chance to come down from the high. He continues the previous onslaught--lighter, quicker, and alternating slaps across both cheeks. Nicky’s head wobbles weakly, his mouth dropped open in a silent moan. His lovely green eyes flutter like butterfly wings. Joe makes sure his fingers catch on his lips to increase the pain. They plump and bruise for a few scant seconds before fading. Joe mourns the loss as he drags his teeth along the knobs of Nicky’s spine. His cock is incessant as it seeks the hot clench of Nicky’s ass. He nips a thick necklace of hickies while he watches them sway in the mirror. 

  
  


The feral fever returns to his lover. Joe sticks two fingers into Nicky’s mouth while it still hangs open. He’s rewarded with a guttural moan and hot suction, followed by  _ very _ sharp teeth. Joe hisses, presses down on Nicky’s tongue from within and digs his thumb up into the soft underside of his chin. It’s with that headlock he propels Nicky back towards the vanity. Joe growls as he rips open the top drawer and digs out the little blue tub of lubrication. It takes only a deft twist of his hand to carelessly fling the lid off. 

  
  


Joe releases Nicky’s mouth and wraps his hand around his neck. He squeezes, but only just enough to turn his moans raspy. It’s a warning to hold still. A warning that Nicky refuses to accept without another slap on his ass. This one is harsh and reprimanding--it bowls Nicky over with a shocked cry. 

  
  


He scoops a heavy glob onto his fingers and smears them around Nicky’s hole to melt the gel. He’s done with teasing. His first two fingers shove in at the same time in one fell swoop. The vaseline smooths the way, right up until the first knuckles hit the outer rim and Joe can go no further. Nicky keens high in his throat at the invasion. 

  
  


He gets him nice and slippery, his fingers pistoning in and out. There’s a hot, messy squealching sound his inner walls make--and oh,  _ fuck  _ he’s so tight! How can Nicky be so  _ tight  _ after all these centuries of taking Joe over and over again? Nicky sucks in his bottom lip when his prostate receives a parting glance. He tries gripping onto Joe’s wrist, onto the one scissoring him open, tries to reach beneath himself to grab his poor cock too. Immediately, Joe pulls out and slaps his bottom again. He spanks him until Nicky tucks his arms up and buries his head into them with an angry whimper. Joe returns to work slicking him open, adding a third finger and twisting viciously. 

  
  


For all his seething, Nicky hasn’t ceased shamelessly rocking back to meet him. Mesmerized as he is by the sight of his fingers disappearing deep into his husband, Joe has unfortunately stalled too long. One of Nicky’s legs manages to wriggle in between his torso and the vanity. With one push they topple to the floor in a sprawl. 

  
  


Nimble as ever, Nicky twists to fling him off. He gets to his knees and he nearly headbutts Joe in the process. He almost succeeds in freeing himself until Joe pulls him into a stern headlock. They’re crouched on the floor, pressed together without an inch between, Nicky lithe and heaving against Joe’s sweaty chest.

  
  


Joe doesn’t hesitate. He slicks his cock with extra lube, angles just so, and  _ slams  _ into Nicky’s body. He’s buried to the hilt, hip bones digging into his ass, his cock strangled in smooth, hot heat. Nicky arches himself, seated in Joe’s lap in a silent scream. Joe has just enough presence of mind to pause, easing up on the headlock. He's searching for a signal from Nicky. His hesitation is answered when Nicky rocks back, impaling himself further onto his cock. Joe nods, mostly to himself, and starts up a fast, brutal pace. 

  
  


He’s relentless in his pursuit for pleasure. When Joe’s cock can’t worm itself into him any further, he pushes Nicky onto all fours and kneels behind him. The new angle sucks Joe’s cock in even further. He tightens his grip on Nicky’s hips and pulls him back to meet his thrusts. They’re fucking with abandon now. Nicky’s greedy hole takes everything Joe gives him. A symphony of skin-against-skin, filthy moaning, and wet pounding fills Joe’s ears. His thighs are burning from the exertion. Joe can feel his heart pounding inside his skull. It’s pure ecstasy. 

  
  


Nicky’s similarly uninhibited. He goes from on his hands, to his elbows, to sliding entirely down the floor until his forehead flops against the carpet. His hands clench and unclench as they stretch high above his head. He’s shoving his ass high into the air and the angle is perfect for striking his prostate. Joe edges the sensitive bundle of nerves, intent on drawing this out to its fullest. Nicky pounds his fist in frustration at being denied. 

  
  


That simply won’t do. Joe shifts to the side so he can palm Nicky’s ass. He raises it up and cracks it down like a whip. The sound is swallowed by a short howl as Nicky throws his head back. Joe focuses on spanking Nicky with one hand and pulling his hair with the other as he fucks and fucks and fucks. 

  
  


Nicky is heaving for breath when  _ finally  _ he whimpers, “J-Joe!” 

  
  


It’s a plea--the first word he’s spoken since they’ve started this. It's a fresh break in the frenzy still coursing through his system.

  
  


Like a bucket of ice water to the face, Joe breaks apart from him, pulls entirely out of his body, still sopping with lube and precome. He rocks back on his haunches and fists the base of his cock. He must be patient. He waits for Nicky to shakily roll over into his back. His green eyes are luminous and shining as he reaches his arms out for his husband. "Yusuf!" 

  
  


Powerless to deny him anything, Joe envelops him in a solid embrace. He loops his arms under Nicky’s armpits to gently cradle his head and neck off from the floor. He accepts the suffering it causes his knuckles; Nicky’s had more than enough for today. 

  
  


Nicky buries his shaking hands into Joe’s sweat-soaked hair and wraps his thick thighs around his waist. Already, he’s urging Joe back inside his body with a nudge from his heels. Nicky sobs when Joe’s cock catches his rim. It feels like coming home when he slides inside in one long glide. 

  
  


Joe curls around him, shielding Nicky’s body from the outside world. He litters his face--his raw, tingling face--with sweet, loving kisses. A balm for all the pain doled. For his part, Joe doesn’t thrust so much as undulate against Nicky’s ass. He makes sure he massages his cockhead against that sweet spot so Nicky can skyrocket to the stars. 

  
  


"Please," Nicky pleads.

  
  


"Please, what?" Joe kisses him sloppily, his cock punching melodic noises out of Nicky.

  
  


"Don't-don't stop!"

  
  


“I won’t, habibi,” Joe croons into his ear. “You’re so beautiful, so good for me!” He laps his tongue at the sweat beading his temple and kisses the soft hair matted there. “You are the pulse that drives my heartbeat. The moon that ushers the tides of my undying love for you!” He wraps a hand around Nicky’s cock, forgotten as it is between their stomachs. 

  
  


Nicky thrashes at the touch. His expression is both devastating and euphoric. There’s a blush high on his cheeks. Tears leak from his eyes and Joe licks those away too. His thrusts are losing their rhythm. “You are the breath inside my lungs--the jubilant exhale! My  _ Nicoló _ , my soul!”

  
  


“ _ Mio amore! _ ” With one last, desperate cry, Nicky breaks apart and shatters into hundreds of glorious pieces. His back arches off the floor, suspended there as he orgasms. His ruby-red cock pulses endlessly over Joe’s fingers. He comes so hard, Joe can feel a thick stripe land on his collar bone. When he’s done, he drops exhausted and fights for breath. 

  
  


Joe watches his eyes slip close. A litany of Joe’s name falls softly, unevenly, from his lips. He’s still trembling, as if a live wire exists at his core and pulses with electricity. It’s easy for Joe to ride the rhythmic squeezing around his cock and coat his insides with his own release. His balls draw up and Joe kisses him passionately--he senses his brows are furrowed with each jerk of his cock. 

  
  


There’s a ringing in his ears and he has to shake his head to clear it. When he comes to, the room reeks of sweat and sex. There is a rivulet of come sticking unpleasantly to their skin. With aching gentleness, Joe slips his softening cock out. A stream of come follows as Nicky’s body expels it. Any other time, Joe would press his essence back in--use his fingers to plug his puffy, quivering hole back up. 

  
  


Instead, Joe lays his full weight over Nicky’s twitching body. From toes to fingers they are melded together as one. Joe clasps their hands above their heads and twines their fingers in a knuckle-whitening grip. Nicky settles. The fight within him is over. 

  
  


Joe busies himself with kissing every inch of his husband within reach. Nicky is floating, his half-lidded gaze stuck on something far beyond the ceiling. Joe noses his cheekbone, “My handsome, beautiful man. Talk to me, my love. Where are you?”

  
  


All he gets is a quiet, satisfied hum. 

  
  


Joe whispers into his ear, Nicky’s sideburn pleasantly scratching at his lips, “Will you let me draw you a bath?” Nicky musters enough strength to weakly nudge his head against Joe’s. With one last, lingering kiss to his lips, Joe reluctantly lets go. He’s sore in all the right places, so he can only imagine the shape Nicky is in. 

  
  


A frown dots along Nicky’s brow as Joe disappears from his side. He rectifies that with a soothing caress down his arms. “Come,” Joe beckons. “Up, habibi.” He pulls the two of them to their feet. Nicky swoons and Joe takes most of his weight lest he crumple. Nicky blinks away the dizzy spell then immediately scoots himself into Joe’s arms. He huddles in his secure hug, his head ducking under Joe’s chin. It’s easy for Joe to hold him tightly, to run his hands down the length of his spine and up again to cup his face for another sweet kiss. 

  
  
  
  


**\----**

  
  
  
  


“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  
  


They’re soaking inside the ensuite’s too-small tub, Nicky pillowed against Joe’s chest. Their legs are too long to submerge all the way, so their crooked knees stick out like four knobbly islands in the water. He’s gently wringing a washcloth out onto Nicky’s hair. His head is tilted back against Joe’s shoulder to keep water and suds alike out of his eyes. 

  
  


Nicky is cozy and sleepy--a massive difference compared to the rabid thing he was earlier. He sighs as Joe kisses his temple. 

  
  


“It was,” he starts only to trail off. Joe is indulgent while he attempts to find the right words. “Everything, honestly.” Nicky doesn’t seem pleased with his own response. 

  
  


“Today’s operation sure wasn’t easy,” Joe says lightly. He dusts the cloth lightly over his aquiline nose, over his lips and chin. It’s more about the sensory response than functional cleaning. 

  
  


“No, it’s more than that,” Nicky shakes his head. “It’s… We never talked about what happened to us, back in London. In the labs,” he shudders. Joe clasps him tighter. “We were betrayed, by our own family, no less.” Softly he whispers, “I had to watch them hurt you, cut you open like you weren’t even a person. And me? I was strapped to a table, unable to do a damn thing to stop your suffering.”

  
  


Joe shushes him, “It wasn’t your fault, habibi. None of it was.”

  
  


Nicky grasps his hand, lifts it out of the water to skim his lips across the knuckles. The silver of his marriage band glints in the bathroom’s low light. “Yes, I know that. I tell myself this and, well… Sometimes I can see it in  _ your  _ eyes too, hayati. You carry this same burden as well.” 

  
  


Joe presses a kiss into his hair, right over where he was shot, where his skull had-- 

  
  


Suddenly, there's tears in his eyes. He squeezes them shut. How much did it seem to Joe at the time that the world was ending with every needle-jab and scalpel-slice taken to Nicky’s flesh? The horrifying drone of a flatline from the monitors, stretching on for an eternity, before Nicky’s heart stirred once more. Only to live through it over and over again. Relief definitely wasn’t the right word for knowing Nicky experienced the same devastation as well. They spend the next few minutes silently holding and reassuring each other through the memories. 

  
  


The next time Joe speaks, he says, “I still need to keep my promise.”

  
  


Nicky turns slightly to stare confused at him. 

  
  


Joe shrugs one shoulder. “You asked me, not so long ago, to take you back to Malta,” he says. 

  
  


“I did, didn’t I?” Nicky chuffs and runs his fingers along Joe’s arms. 

  
  


“I’d be a poor husband, remiss in my duties, if I didn’t honor my word.”

  
  


A bad choice of words because Nicky suddenly tenses. Water sloshes over the side of the tub as he turns to face Joe. He frames Joe’s head between his hands, looks him in the eye and firmly says, “‘A poor husband’? You are a generous man!” Joe’s eyes widen at the conviction he sees and hears. 

  
  


“You give and you give, as naturally as breathing. Just now in the bedroom, you could have judged me, but you didn’t. Not once did you abandon me, not when I needed you most. Instead, you gave me the gift of feeling human again. A gift of pain born from love.” Nicky curls up onto his chest and holds them cheek-to-cheek. “You gave me the most precious gift you could give; your heart to protect and care for. Yusuf al-Kaysani, you could  _ never  _ be a poor husband.” 

  
  


Joe smiles through watering eyes. He squeezes Nicky close--his Nicky, who could be so poignant and poetic sometimes--and he rains kisses down on every inch of Nicky’s skin within reach. Which isn’t a whole lot in the cramped tub. 

  
  


“We’ll have to talk to Andy,” Joe sniffles. “But I’m pretty sure I heard her discussing it with Copley over the phone earlier. It seems we’re all ready for a break, a  _ real  _ break.”

  
  


“So, you’ll take me home?”

  
  


“Nicky, I’ll take you to the stars and planets above if that’s what you desire.” 

  
  


They both chuckle. If they live long enough, Joe might make good on that promise too. Nicky leans their foreheads together, “That’s okay. I’ve already got the only star I need, right here.” 

  
  
  
  
.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I opted out of using standardized BDSM lingo and safety words for this fic. Why? It felt jarringly anachronistic between these two ancient characters. I rationalized 900 years spent exploring each other’s sexuality together has given Joe & Nicky significant insight into their comfort zones. 
> 
> If you are interested in dabbling in BDSM themes, especially ones as heavy as these, I _highly_ recommend negotiating with your partner beforehand. Whether it’s a specific word, the stoplight method, or both. And, as always, take care of your partner after the experience is over in order to prevent sub-drop (feelings of fear/sadness/anxiety a submissive partner may go through after an intense scene). Also, don't use vaseline for vaginal sex or with certain condoms! :P
> 
> Fic title taken from "Bloodflood" by Alt-J. Fav band because they are an auditory orgasm.


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